“He died? The Marquis de Ronchard died?”

“It was years ago now.” She wiped her mouth delicately with a napkin. “And yet I still feel the sorrow. I was close to his mama, you know.”

“How did he die?” I could hardly make the words come out.

“In the great influenza epidemic. They were out on their estates in the West Indies. They had gone there to escape the war and when his father was killed in the fighting they stayed on because France was not an agreeable place to be for a long while after the war. Then the epidemic reached even far-flung corners of the world and the young man succumbed. The influenza, it targeted the young, you know. The young and healthy. They were the ones stricken.”

“So he died in the epidemic. Did his younger brother inherit the title, or a cousin?”

She shook her head. “The title died with him. He was an only child and soon after his death we received word that his mother had died also. Of grief, if you want my opinion. She worshipped that boy. And now they are both buried in a foreign field, so far from home. Life is full of such tragedies, is it not?”

Theodora nodded vigorously but didn’t stop munching on her dessert. Coffee was served. As soon as possible I made my excuses of an urgent appointment and took my leave.

“You will come again soon?” Princess Marie asked expectantly as she clutched my hand between her bony fingers. “Such a treat for both of us.”

I promised I would return and made my way down the broad curved staircase. As I came out the front door, blinking in the strong sunlight, someone came running up the steps toward me. I looked up into the face of Darcy.

Chapter 32

Chapter 32

January 28, 1933
In Nice. But really not very nice.

It was all I could do not to fling myself into his arms.

“Georgie?” His face showed concern. “Is everything all right? What are you doing here? Did you come to find me?”

“I didn’t know you were staying here,” I said.

“Oh, yes, we’ve been here a couple of weeks. They’ll probably stay on another couple but I have to leave soon.”

“I see.” The desire to hug him faded. “Darcy, I want you to do something for me. The Marquis de Ronchard—you warned me against him. Was it just because you thought he had a bad reputation with women or did you suspect something more?”

He was still frowning. “Let’s just say that certain people wanted me to check up on him. He may not be what he seems, Georgie.”

“I know. He’s not.” The words burst out. “Darcy, he’s not a marquis. I suspect he’s a clever thief who stole the queen’s necklace and is probably responsible for the death of Sir Toby Groper. You must go and arrest him.”